A.N.  So I started writing this immediately after writing the first chapter, which was actually December, and now it's the end of March and I'm finishing it.  That's bad, even for me, but I got a lot of feedback from this story and a lot of people wanted to see it continued- I don't' know if they still do, after all this time, but here it is anyway!!  I hope you like it and that everything is going well for all of you.  I'm sorry that my updates are so few and far between, I will try to be more consistent.  Enjoy!  And please review.

Xoxo, Maddy.

Disclaimer:  Are we still doing these?  It's so obvious I don't own them I feel ridiculous to even state it.  Haha.

I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin'
Now the days go by so fast.

            Chandler made his way up the stairs as discreetly as he could, which wasn't very, considering the fact that the staircase was in the living room and the living room was full of at least 35 Gellers or Geller guests.  The day after Christmas was a bigger deal than Christmas itself in their family; grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends congregated in the house every December 26h, laughing and eating and engaging in all the usual merriment.

            It wasn't that he didn't enjoy merriment in general.  In fact, he was all for it.  But tonight, he just wasn't in the mood.  It had been less than a week since school had let out, and he had already been given four guilt trips and three rounds of the silent treatment from Evelyn.  Sometimes he didn't know why he bothered; but she was his first serious girlfriend, and something about that made her special.  He wasn't quite ready to admit defeat just yet.

            Escaping to the top of the stairs, he peeked into Ross's room, where he was occupying the top bunk for a couple of weeks.  A couple of Ross and Monica's younger cousins were in there, playing with some of his weird space toys.  He pushed open the door to the right of Ross's room, hoping for peace and quiet, which he found.  Monica's room was pink and girly, and it had a big canopy bed in the right corner.  The bed had a stuffed animal on it that was wearing a t-shirt with writing on it.  He picked it up and smiled at the message:  "Monica's, NOT Rachel's", in a child's scrawl.  He wandered aimlessly around the soft cream carpet, inspecting the various posters and photographs that hung on the faded rosebud wallpaper.  He had been in here before, but never without her, and usually Ross.  It was weird to be there by himself, and for a moment he was struck with a feeling of guilt, as if he was spying on her, seeing something he shouldn't.  Then he remembered the party downstairs, and Evelyn's ranting phone message, and the kids playing in Ross's room, and he dismissed the notion.

            He sat at her desk.  It was organized meticulously, free of clutter.  A scrap of paper in the center, with a reminder to "Call Rach about Friday" looked out of place among the perfect alignment of everything else.  His hand reached toward the drawer, and he snapped it back, surprised.  That would be crossing the line… besides, he didn't even know he wanted to see inside her desk.  Weird.

            Above the desk was a bulletin board with about twenty pictures thumb tacked to it.  He stood there and studied them.  Mostly from high school, mostly of her and Rachel and some other girls that he guessed where her "group".  There was a picture of her and Ross from when they were kids; she was giving him a piggyback ride.  And there were two of Monica and a guy with floppy hair.  One of them was probably their senior prom, because he was wearing a tux and she had on a fancy dress.  The other was at a campfire, and they were toasting marshmallows.  His arm was around her shoulders.  Chandler wondered who he was and why she had never mentioned him.  Then, again, he wondered why he cared.

            He jumped a little when he heard the door swing open.  Monica put her hands on her hips mockingly.

            "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she teased.

            "Sorry," he said returning her smile.  "Only empty room."

            "I'm sure.  You totally just saw your opportunity to steal my Care Bear and took it," she said, indicating the light blue stuffed animal in his right hand.  He followed her gaze and laughed, tossing the bear back at her.

            "I was looking for a magic marker to write "Chandler's, NOT Monica's" on the back," he joked.

            "My mom sent me to find you.  It's time for dinner," she said.

            "Okay."

            "You all right?"

            "Sure.  Why?" he asked, flipping the pages in a textbook lying on her desk.

            "Big party and you're in my room looking at my Psych book."

            "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just not feeling very Christmasy."

            "Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

            "Maybe later.  Let's go eat," he said, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs.

            Two hours later, Monica, Chandler, Ross and Rachel were balancing dessert plates on their laps and discussing New Years plans. 

            "Well, you two are obviously welcome at my house," Rachel was telling Chandler and Ross, "My parents are leaving for the Bahamas the day after tomorrow and Amy and I are making Jill go to my grandparents for New Years Eve so we can have a party."

            "Sounds like a high school party," Ross sneered.  Rachel glared at him.

            "Like you would even know."

            Monica stifled a laugh, and Chandler looked the required amount of indignant for his best friend.

            "Whatever, I think I'll pass on drinking in your kitchen with all your annoying friends," Ross shot back.

            "Hey!" Monica protested.

            "And Monica," Ross added quickly.

            "Nice save," Chandler said sarcastically.

            "Anyway, who cares if you're not there, it's going to be a lot of fun.  So you two can just squeeze every last drop of excitement out of hanging out with your parents watching the ball drop.  Come on, Monica, let's go upstairs," Rachel said, still in a huff at Ross's rejection.

            Monica stood to follow her friend, shooting her brother and Chandler an amused look, as three small children barreled into her legs and sent her flying backwards into a surprised Chandler's lap. 

            "Play with us, play with us, play with us!" chanted Abby, Olivia, and Maggie, three of many Geller cousins in attendance that evening.

            A red-faced Monica shifted her weight off of Chandler and was promptly replaced in his lap by six year old Maggie.

            "Chandler, we want you to play with us.  We're playing beauty parlor and we have no customers."

            "Uh, well, I don't know.  I mean, I think your buddy Rachel over there really likes it when people play with her hair," Chandler said, looking at Rachel wickedly.  Her hands flew instinctively over her long golden locks. 

            "Ross needs a haircut," Rachel announced when it was clear the girls were focusing their attention on her.

            "No, no, no, this looks too good already," said Ross.  Chandler re-directed his evil smile to Monica, who had been watching the scene unfold quietly next to him on the couch.

            "Well, you know who that leaves," he said.  "She likes it when you put lots of little braids in and then knot them all together."  The little girls squealed in delight and began pulling their cousin out of the room.

            "Fine, fine, I'm coming, stop pulling," Monica said.  She looked over her shoulder at the three laughing faces behind her, singled out Chandler, and mouthed the words "You're dead".

            Almost an hour later, the girl's fingers had been pried from Monica's hair when their parents insisted it was time to go home.  When the last guest had trickled out, Mr. and Mrs. Geller went up to bed, followed by Ross not too much later.  Chandler sat at the kitchen table, not tired yet, with the left-over apple pie.  He realized he hadn't seen Monica since he had fed her to the lions, and wondered if she was sleeping.

            His question was answered a few minutes later when she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.  He had to hold back a laugh when he saw her; her usually smooth hair was frizzed into a hundred little knots.

            "They took your stylistic advice," she said dryly.

            "Hey, I think it looks great.  You've always been a trendsetter," he said, holding up his hands.

            "Ha ha, very funny.  I can't get it out!" she moaned.  He noticed the comb in her left hand and motioned for her to come closer.

            "Here, let me try."

            She eyed him suspiciously.  "Something tells me you don't have a huge background in the cosmetic arts."

            "You obviously did not grow up in my father's house," Chandler retorted.  He patted his knee, and she sat down reluctantly, handing him the comb.  He began gingerly separating the snarled hair.

            "Did you have fun tonight?" she asked after a few moments.

            "Sure," he said, detangling a purple elastic and handing it to her.

            "I can't even imagine how boring it must have been if it's not even your family."

            "Really, it's fine.  I like spending the holidays here," Chandler said.

            "You mentioned your dad before…" Monica began tentatively.  The two of them had grown pretty close that past semester, but none of their conversations had progressed past the gentle teasing level.  She wasn't sure he wanted them to.

            "Yeah?" he prodded.  Snap, out came a rhinestone barrette.

            "How come you don't see him for Christmas?" she asked, hoping she wasn't overstepping her bounds.

            She felt him shrug.  "We're not very close.  He lives in Vegas.  Guess I'd rather be here."

            "I'll bet he misses you," she said.  He didn't say anything, and she sensed their time on the deeper level was up.

            "Anyway, I'm glad you're here," she tried, her tone lighter.  "Even if you do help six year olds torture me for an hour."  He laughed.

            "Hey, I'm helping you fix it, right?  I'm almost done."

            He combed in silence for a few minutes, and was suddenly aware of the fact that she was straddling his thigh.  Her hair smelled sweet, like lilacs and peaches.  What are you smelling her hair for? he asked himself disbelievingly.  He brushed harder.

            "Ow!" she exclaimed.

            "Ah, sorry, sorry!"

            "It's okay," she laughed.  "You were doing fine up til then."

            She twisted her ring around her finger in circles, suddenly very aware of his fingers in her hair, practically massaging her scalp.  Goosebumps rose up her arms and she didn't know why.

            "Hey, who were those pictures of above your desk?" he asked.

            "Just friends from high school."

            "Who's that guy in a bunch of them?" He knew how weird his voice sounded asking, but he really wanted to know who that guy was, that guy with his arm around her.

            "Oh.  That's my friend Will.  We went to prom together and stuff."

            Her hair was completely detangled, once again falling smoothly just past her shoulders.  He continued brushing it.

            "And stuff?  Was he your boyfriend?" he asked in a teasing singsong.

            "No," she said too quickly.  "Not exactly." 

            "Oh, one of those."

            "One of what, exactly?" she asked sharply, and he knew he hit a nerve.

            "Nothing.  Is he going to be at Rachel's thing?"  She reached back, ran her fingers through her hair, and realized he was done.

            "I don't know," she said, standing.  She scooped the pile of hair accessories that had accumulated on the table into her hand.  "Are you?"

            He shrugged.  "If Ross wants to."

            She looked up at him, and smiled briefly.  "Thanks," she said, indicating her hair.

            "No problem, it was the least I could do."

            "I'm going to bed."

            "Goodnight," he said.  Something had spooked her, and he knew it because it had spooked him too.

            "Night," she said.  Halfway out of the kitchen she stopped and said quietly, "You should come." 

            He smiled as she walked the rest of the way to the stairs and up to her room.  Something that he should skip the party, stay home by himself and call to Evelyn on the phone- that's what she would want.  But something else told him that he wouldn't end up doing that.